


The Lesser of Two Evils

by robotfvckers



Series: Halloween Strawpoll Prompts [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Explicit Consent, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Penis In Vagina Sex, Robot Sex, Sex Pollen, Stuffing, Teratophilia, Vaginal Sex, Were-Creatures, bulging, monster cock, valveplug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 16:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12461214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotfvckers/pseuds/robotfvckers
Summary: Talon injects Jesse with a drug that triggers his rut. Zenyatta helps.





	The Lesser of Two Evils

****Jesse stares at the robotic hands testing the leather straps around his wrist. They are gentle, unhesitating, touching without any unnecessary contact, but each brush feels like a tender kiss.

He doesn’t know where he is, why he’s tied and flat on his back. 

He’s so warm.

He’s in trouble.

Jesse doesn’t let himself panic; instead he takes in each detail as it comes. He’s half-changed and naked, body furred and powerful and bulging, his metal arm expanding to match his current form. His wrists and ankles are bound, and he’s staring into the white lights of Angela’s med bay. Jesse winces, drags his eyes to something less blinding and finds the soft glow of teal in a neat grid.

“Z-zenyatta,” he tries, mouth stretching into his almost-muzzle, voice nearly unrecognizable, vocal cords not meant for human speech.

“I am afraid our time is short.” Zenyatta leans over him, and he falls into Zenyatta’s shadow, the room’s lights a corona around him. Heat lances through Jesse’s body, pulsing like the flow of electricity, buzzing between his ears.

Zenyatta sounds far away, like he’s in a cave deep beneath the earth. If he squints, the golden lip of Zenyatta’s mouth shifts while he speaks, though it’s impossible; his synth doesn’t work like that. A golden warmth joins the hot tightness in his body, familiar. Zenyatta’s harmony, he realizes as an orb floats into view. His mind clears enough to understand the monk’s words.

“You were injected with an unknown stimulant on our mission. It triggered your rut, Jesse.”

Jesse swallows and shakes his head. The sweet tightness swells in his guts, and when he thinks of it, his _rut_ , the weight solidifies like a punch, twitching and insistent between his thighs.

“I...I can’t. Haven’t had one ‘n years…”

“We extracted you as soon as we were able. You attacked Dr. Ziegler while she administered suppressants. Lúcio too.”

Jesse gapes. Is it possible—but Zenyatta shifts, lights flickering. The monk would not lie to him.

“She has given you as much as is safe. We still do not know what they used on you.”

Jesse’s vision blurs at the edges, but pressure at his chin steadies him, cool and smooth. Zenyatta’s hand.

“You lost control around our human companions. As an omnic, you will not experience the same reaction. There is no urge for a form such as mine.”

Jesse stifles a whine deep in his chest.

 _Oh, Zen._ Jesse thinks between one jerk and the next, claws sprouting out of his nail beds, organic hand elongating in a familiar, uncomfortable burst. It’s no surprise that the smell of humans triggers something so instinctual, but Zenyatta doesn’t know his allure. A voice that shivers along his spine, deep and calming, motions too smooth and seamless for someone mechanical, a long, slender neck, peeking from beneath fine cables, a narrow torso that flares into swaying hips when he deigned to walk, always drawing Jesse’s gaze. The softest fragrance of sandalwood and oil and the tang of metal, those smells bloom now, dream-like and heady.

He flexes against the restraints, twisting hard, but Zenyatta shushes him, settling his hand on his chest.

“Jesse. While you are still aware. Your vitals are nearing dangerous ranges. Dr. Ziegler thinks it best to have someone assist you. Physically.”

Jesse laughs, the sound hard and foreign, animalistic. Zenyatta, so wise and well-spoken, stumbling over the mention of a little rough-and-tumble. Maybe he’s more far gone than he thinks, his grasp on sanity slipping as the warmth flares and weakens him.

“Y-yeah.” He manages, second guessing himself for an instant, remembering with shrinking clarity where he is, that other agents probably watch the feeds, making sure they are safe.

Angela certainly sees them, hell, even her bright-eyed baby brother might be watching too as Zenyatta looms over him while his cock thickens and peaks out of his sheath and into the fur along his belly, matting the curls as his transformation nears completion.

“Ya need my permission. It’s yours.”

The teal shifts, their after image blurring as Zenyatta nods.

“Very well.”

The hand planted on his chest slides lower.

* * *

Zenyatta watches the last of Jesse’s humanity fade. His dark brown eyes glaze, pupils enlarged and swallowed in a ring of gold. Jesse’s hips, restrained while lucid, arch off the table, cock angry red and fat, pulsing tiny bursts of slick. Even his harmony cannot touch him; the orb circles Jesse uselessly while he growls and huffs deep in his chest.

He’s never seen Jesse like this, never been so close to one changed, never laid with a shifter transformed. Zenyatta remembers Jesse’s soft, low cadence, the slow, mesmerizing swirls of smoke rising from his cigarillo, the gentle jab of his elbow into Zenyatta’s side as he tells a lecherous joke, smelling of old leather and tobacco and something deep like cinnamon, his easy smile, how his eyes crinkle at the edges.

Zenyatta cups his sheath, gently shifting the loose skin, hot like a fever. He feels the cock twitching inside, pre-cum spilling at the lightest caress; his hesitation is cruel. Jesse whines hard, writhes, humping into the open air, unable to control himself, shameless and mindless. Zenyatta grasps his cock but cannot fully enclose his hand around its girth. He startles at its heat, its slippery-smoothness, coated with translucent pre that drools over his fingers as he begins to stroke. It’s not quite like a human’s, the wrong shape, too wide at its base, the excess slick squelching with each stroke. Jesse’s balls, so heavy and thick, are drawn tight, near painfully so; when he touches them with his other hand Jesse grunts, more pre spurting onto his stomach.

They are being watched. It is not the time to explore, to get distracted with how barely contained and wild Jesse is beneath him. Instead, he shifts both hands to pump his cock, twisting on the upstroke, veins throbbing against his palms, teasing the tip of his glans where the slick collects before it rushes in rivulets down his shaft.

He brings him off once like this, Jesse fucking into the channel of his hands, grunting and jerking his hips so violently that Zenyatta has trouble holding his position. His hands are a mess of cum, but even as Jesse jerks and growls and huffs he never fully stills; his cock flags for a few moments before it’s thick and aching all over again. Jesse’s whimpers and grunts instruct him, but the cum makes it tricky work, everything so slick his cock pops out of his grip if he slides up too far, slapping the messy thatch of fur beneath. A few minutes stretches into ten, but he cannot bring Jesse off again, not for lack of trying on either part, the wolf angling into any contact, always pressing and urging for more.

Zenyatta hums, worrying. What would be enough? Would he truly be able to help Jesse through this? He lets the uncertainty touch him, then shakes his head. He catches Jesse beneath his glans, nursing his cockhead with the gentle channel of his hand, rolling his palm along the drooling slit as he teases fingers beneath the tight swell of his balls, lower, to somewhere he could not see but could feel. Jesse’s hole is tight, but his fingers are lubed and warm, and he wiggles one in easily. The wolf groans, hips stuttering, unsure whether to move against it or rut into his hand, but Zenyatta doesn’t need him to choose, gently urges his finger deeper, curling and bumping the coarse bundle of nerves within.

Not so different from a human here. Two fingers weave inside, thrusting in time to the hand on his cock, firm pressure on his glans, smearing the cum and slick with messy, measured motions. He flutters his fingers inside him, and Jesse howls, the leather restraints groaning as he comes for a second time, the force of it sluicing past his fingers and catching in hot streaks against his chassis and the underside of his faceplate. Zenyatta chirps, and he hopes it’s quiet enough that the feeds cannot record it. Little soft huffs spill from Jesse’s maw, and his tongue lolls, sated for a few, precious seconds.

Zenyatta drags his hand through the mess coating him, though it does little more than smear it along gleaming metal, the smell strong enough to be analyzed by his sensors: wooden and salty, like ocean brine, though it’s less intense, more bestial, intimate and familiar in some distant way. He wishes he had a chance to recalibrate his own systems, turn down his sensitivity so his body wouldn’t begin to online at the smells and noises of his friend, helpless, beneath him. Now, he must shift his thighs together, feel the pressure pooling against his modesty panel, knowing it will overflow, leak between the seams, slick his inner workings and pants, the physical evidence of his desire exposed.

Jesse wuffs, nostrils flaring, scenting the air, struggles renewed as his cock throbs in his hand. Zenyatta ignores the thought that Jesse might know, could smell his desire, synthetic or not, preparing unconsciously for what he could not dare to imagine: sinking down on that fat, inhuman cock. He brings Jesse off again with his hands, four fingers scissoring and massaging inside the impossibly warm hole that sucked and squeezed around him. If he fucked Jesse with his synthetic cock, would it be enough?

His knot had not yet formed, and Jesse whines and writhes on the table, his thrashing nicking and denting the metal, his tail whipping behind his legs. He cannot sense Jesse’s thoughts, only a dissonant, gordian tangle of discord, inhuman and intense enough to make him shudder.

Zenyatta moves quickly, his trepidation cannot stop him; he cannot leave Jesse helpless within the hellish thrall of his heat. He shucks his pants to the floor, shifts his hands between his legs to release his panel. With a soft hiss, his valve and node slide into view, and distantly embarrassment warms his systems as slick drips along the uneven planes of his thighs. The feeling leaves him as Jesse reacts near instantly to the stronger smell of his inner workings, broken off howls and whimpers bubbling forth. He jerks as if he means to turn over, hips hunched and quaking.

Zenyatta hefts himself over the wide berth of Jesse’s hips, the fur ghosting along hidden sensors, his valve slipping over the slickened fur of his stomach, kissing the crown of of Jesse’s cock without hesitation. Jesse howls, confused; the position is wrong, Zenyatta realizes, different than it would be if Jesse were free to press him to his knees and catch his forelegs in front of Zenyatta’s thighs, pinning him in place, rendering his mate helpless as he stuffed him with inch after inch of sweltering, wet cock.

He trembles at the thought, how easy it would be to slice the leathers holding Jesse down, but it’s too dangerous, improper; he grasps the base of Jesse’s cock as well as he can, servos trembling, slipping against it before the telltale pressure surges against his hole. Jesse doesn’t wait for him to adjust, cannot wait, thrusting as soon as anything comes into contact with him. A few times he fucks against the bright node at the apex of Zenyatta’s valve, and the monk trills, would disable his voicebox if he could, but he doesn’t have time to find the right wire. Miraculously, he aligns his body just as Jesse urges up, and it catches, his cock popping in with a slick, maddening slide.

Jesse’s howl overshadows Zenyatta’s startled moan as he fucks shallowly, cramming him with little care, not stopping his small, frantic thrusts until he bottoms out, hips locked tight to Zenyatta’s, and even then he doesn’t cease, fucks him in rapid bursts, chasing pleasure without an ounce of remorse or awareness. Zen can only hold on, fingers planted on the muscled swell of Jesse’s chest, trying to match pace but unable to do more than hold himself still and pliant as Jesse rocks into him. He’s so full, sensors flaring inside him, bursting with feedback, and he has to tilt his array down to believe what his readings already tell him: the soft black middle of his inner body bulges, expanding so slightly with each thrust. He has little time to think as Jesse’s thrusts grow harder still, jostling him, claiming more than he thought possible, wondering if he’ll break with such treatment, embarrassingly, impossibly nearing his own end when Jesse grunts and jerks up and holds.

The first hot, deep pulse of sensation hits him where nothing has ever touched before, and Zenyatta’s body answers, crashes with feedback, clenching and resetting around Jesse’s cock as his seed fills him and Zenyatta’s systems flicker offline for a several seconds. His synth haywires with a spray of clicks and whirs, and there it is, must be, his valve stretching, rim widened to its breaking point as Jesse knots him, the pressure of their coupling trapped within, unable to be released though he writhes and squeezes around it, only milking more spend from the wolf howling beneath him.

“...yatta…”

“Zenyatta. Are you okay?” A woman’s voice rings through the intercoms, and Zenyatta returns to himself, little by little, chirping when Jesse continues to pump him full, swiveling and jerking into him, motions finally lazier, less insistent. Sated.

“Y-yes.” He tries, glitching his words, and he winces.

Everything feels secondary to how swollen and molten his body feels. Warnings blink at the edges of his HUD, and he dismisses them without review. Later, when he could think of such things. He could always fix himself.

“Zen...yatta?”

His array onlines with a start. Zenyatta tilts his head to Jesse’s face, open and panting, saliva dripping off his fangs, but his eyes are bright. Aware.

Zenyatta stills, hands aching, still planted on Jesse’s chest, suddenly aware of how he must look, swollen and stuffed with Jesse’s cock, valve and thighs smeared with teal and creamy pre, pistons and cables trembling from the stress of holding upright.

“‘M…’m here.” Jesse flexes his arms, bites back his whine has he snaps his jaws shut, another wave of pleasure stealing his thoughts, and Zenyatta joins him in his stilted, tiny noises, feeling thick and stuffed inside.

“Wanna...mount ya…”

Zenyatta startles, array flaring, fingers twisting into his fur.

Jesse makes a strange noise, laughter, and Zen flares brighter.

“Lemme out…” He tilts his head towards his restraints.

Zenyatta hesitates, shivering through another warm pulse, stunned into silence with how easily Jesse offers.

“I would advise against that.” Angela says, ever so gently flustered.

“Need it.” Jesse murmurs low, directly to Zenyatta, all rumbles and heat. “Need to breed ya up proper, Zen. Please…” He moans, rocking into him, wiggling just a bit deeper before relaxing against the table, the knot tugging Zenyatta down with him while he chirps.

“Dr. Ziegler.” Zenyatta says, trying and failing to school his voice into something proper and not the unsteady, broken waver that bugs his synth. “I have this under control.” A gentle, nervous mirth tinges his next words. “I would advise you turn off the feeds.”

It’s silent for a few moments; the only sounds are Zenyatta’s fans and Jesse’s heavy breathing echoing in the air.

“I trust your judgement.”

It’s the last they hear of anyone on the outside, and Zenyatta is thankful for it. He leans as much as he can, groaning at the stretch as the knot tugs his walls. He unlatches Jesse’s hand, and the shifter shreds the other strap before Zenyatta can react.

“Was that necessary?” He mumbles, groaning as Jesse grasps his hips and sits up. Suddenly Zenyatta is flush to Jesse’s impossibly warm front, all soft muscles and fur and warm slick below. His synth hiccups. Jesse pants, shifts Zenyatta so easily to cut his legs free.

Suddenly there’s nothing between Zenyatta and a wolf in heat, but Jesse cradles him in his arms, maneuvering Zen carefully so his back meets the warm table.

“Mm…” Jesse rocks forward, testing the swell of them locked together, moans at how Zenyatta’s still squeezed around him, sucking at each inch, granting no reprieve. “Knot’s still tight. Might be hard to…” Jesse slowly begins to withdraw, but his insides protest, and Zenyatta moans.

“Relax, Zen. Steady…”

He tries, but the way his cock pulses is so hard to relax around, chassis sore and stretched but afraid to let go. Slowly, slowly, the pressure increases, valve fritzing, finally widening that last increment, and Jesse pops out with a hot, low swear and a flood coursing between their legs. Jesse doesn’t even pull out all the way, just flips Zenyatta to his stomach in careful but swift maneuvers, his larger form shifting the omnic like a doll.

“I…” Zenyatta breathes as Jesse angles his hips up and sinks back in, knot bumping against the molten softness of Zenyatta’s rim. “O-oh!”

“How’d ya get so tight already? Christ… “ Jesse says, barely understandable, but not unkindly. On the contrary, he hums as he butts his knot against that hot, plush hole, fucking slow and easy, like they have all the time in the world. He drags his cockhead around the swollen lips, teasing the oversensitive flesh, chuckling as Zenyatta angles back, but Jesse withdraws further still.

“Y...you tease. It seems my care...i-is no longer needed.” Zenyatta chirps, angling to peer over his shoulder. He finds Jesse grinning, too many teeth, his mouth not made for it.

“Aw, don’t be like that.” Jesse says, sliding home in a thick, obscene press, and with just a little more force his knot stuffs inside with a wet pop. Zenyatta keens, synth crackling, that warm cock reclaiming his swollen insides. “You close? How ‘bout this…”

Jesse withdraws, tugging his knot out even as Zenyatta’s valve clamps around it, then back in, cramming that fat bulge inside while colors burst behind his eyes. It’s impossible to do it for more than a handful of thrusts, but Zenyatta trembles and resets around him, valve clenched in a vice before fluttering, more slick easing his already filthy slide as he comes.

* * *

By the time Jesse is done with him, his knot meets no resistance at all. Zenyatta has to check his feeds after, unaware of how much time has passed. Several hours, it seems, though his recordings short circuited so often he’s unsure, each maddening overload so sweet and intense his nerves shiver at the memory.

He sighs, and Jesse’s human arm tightens around his middle, lips pressing into the cables at his neck, nibbling at a hidden node.

“We should go. The others are worried.” Zenyatta says.

“We should.” Jesse hums, even as he nuzzles closer.

He is no longer as big as he was as a wolf, but still he envelops Zenyatta easily, and he’s sore yes, but warm, sated, comfortable, even as the mess between them cools.

“Maybe I should ask talon to give me some more of that stuff.”

Zenyatta _tsks_ , finally finding the energy to sit up and stretch his stiff body. He should recharge soon, run diagnostics. “Do not joke. If you wish for a repeat encounter, you need only ask.”

Jesse freezes, and Zenyatta admonishes himself for the brash comment, though he realizes with a rush that it’s true.

“Really?” Jesse sounds way too pleased. “And here I pegged ya for a romantic.”

He is glad to be turned away so Jesse cannot see how his array flares.

“Yes.” Zenyatta says, grabbing fresh scrubs from a nearby container, wincing at the warm, low ache in his middle, how it sparks small licks of desire, even now. “I would not be opposed to dinner, first.”

Jesse chuckles, accepting the clothes Zenyatta offers him, intentionally brushing their hands together.

“It’s a date.”


End file.
